The Surprise of Our Glory Days
by LeighKelly
Summary: "We're happy, he's the happiest little boy I've ever seen in my life. And I'm thankful for that." Brittany and Santana celebrate Thanksgiving with their three year old son in a very special way. Written in Brittany's point of view. Fifth installment of Someone Like You verse, one-shot written in Brittany's point of view.


**Author's Note: Just in time for Thanksgiving, here is the fifth installment of the _Someone Life You_ verse. This one takes place a little over three years after _Born and Raised in a Summer Haze. _Enjoy, and for those of you who celebrate, have a happy, happy Thanksgiving!**

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><p>It was one of those days that seemed to drag on forever, each and every class feeling like it took days, rather than hours to finish, the hands on the clock dragging along, and every cell in my body twitching with an anxiousness to get home. I probably could have ended my last class early, let my small group of seniors start their holiday weekend ahead of time, but my syllabus was tight, the only extra time built in was for emergencies, so we stayed until the very end, discussing the Weinberg-Witten theorem, with me trying not to be the only one in the classroom distracted by the thought of getting home, fidgeting in my seat and really, really making a conscious effort to avoid checking my cellphone. At four-thirty exactly, I released my class, crossing my fingers and toes that no one would try to stay and speak with me, and quickly packed up my bag, locking the door behind me and rushing to the subway.<p>

There were snow flurries in the air when I walked up the stairs on the other end, and I smiled to myself, hoping it stayed just like that, hoping buckets of the stuff wouldn't dump all over the city, but that there would just be enough to sprinkle everything with magic. Waving a quick hello to Richie, our doorman, I got into the elevator, and by the time I reached the eleventh floor, I felt like I was going to jump out of my own skin, my excitement uncontainable at who was waiting for me back in the apartment. Santana had been gone for five days, the longest she'd been away from me (well, from _us_), since giving birth to our son over three years earlier, doing two television appearances on the west coast (talk shows that Cole and I watched, both of us yelling and laughing at the TV in our excitement to see her, something that would never, ever get old for us), and I thought that I would absolutely lose my mind if I didn't get to see her face in person, to kiss her lips, soon.

When I opened the door, the apartment was silent, shocking me, since that was hardly ever a thing, our precocious little boy almost _always _getting into something. I crossed my eyes a little in confusion, before slipping out of my shoes and dropping my briefcase on the bench by the door, going to see if my wife had left me a note as to where she'd gone with Nicolas. I didn't have to go far to find them, the minute I walked in the living room, my heart absolutely melted, spotting both of them asleep on the couch, Cole hugging his Mama with both his arms and legs, holding onto her for dear life, like she was the tree to his koala, both of them in matching Colombia sweatshirts, Santana's _definitely _one of mine, rather than her own, since she'd made a habit of wearing the ones that smelled like me back when they were still MIT sweatshirts, a million years earlier, after our reunion in Lima. I couldn't help but fumble through my pockets for my phone, needing a picture of it, the two loves of my life, sound asleep, so, _so _happy to be reunited. In truth, I wasn't sure which of them it had been harder on, Santana, who'd really slowed down her career since Cole's birth, taking two whole years completely off, to be at his beck and call (after the struggle we'd gone through to get our son, I don't think either of us could really ever imagine being far from him on a regular basis, and acting involved a lot of travel), or Cole, who couldn't fully understand why his goodnight song from his Mama happened over the computer for a few nights, or why he got to sleep in the _big Mamommy bed_, as he'd dubbed it when he was still combining our names for ease of speech,with me.

"Britt." Santana smiled before she even opened her eyes, her voice raspy from sleep, and shifting, I knew, to get the stiffness out of her back from sleeping with the baby like that, but keeping him cradled close to her. "Hi."

"Hey, honey." I grinned so wide, and went to her, planting a kiss right on her pouty lips, humming as I did, feeling like _I _had come home. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, baby. I'm glad I caught the earlier flight, and I think Cole is too."

"According to the daycare report in my email, you're all he talked about today."

"Well I definitely got a welcome that matched that." She laughed a little, careful not to jostle our sleeping boy.

"Hmm." I smirked, kissing her over and over again. "You'll get _my _welcome tonight, after this guy is zonked out. But before that, and before our big surprise, Cole decided on the _perfect _Mama's Back meal."

"So Shake Shack then?"

"Because of the pumpkin pie custard." I ran my hand affectionately through the thick, wavy hair of my sleeping boy, hair that was just like my wife's. "Obviously."

"_Obviously." _She moved so I could sit down with them, and I did, wrapping my arm around Santana, humming happily as she rested her head on my shoulder and fit her entire body into mine.

"Mommy!" Cole cried out, waking abruptly from sleep, the way he always did. "Mommy! Mommy!"

"Hi, Sprinkles!" I beamed at him, calling him the moniker he'd earned as a baby, when he'd peed through his diapers on literally _every _person we'd ever met, including the university president, and Santana's grandmother, no matter what brand we'd bought, a name that stuck as he got bigger, and wanted rainbow sprinkles on _everything _he touched. "Did you have a good nap?"

"I needa tell you a secret." He beckoned me toward him and cupped his hands around my ear, never changing the volume of his voice. "Guess who's here?"

"Hmm. Is it Santa Claus?"

"No's not." He was very, very serious, and Santana's eyes danced, meeting mine.

"Is it Charlie Brown?"

"No's not. Mama! Mama's here. She gots me at school. She broughts me one, two, _three _newbooks _and _one new cuddly bunny, _and _one new airplane, no big one though, to fly on, just little."

"Oh, hi Mama, I didn't even see you there." I played along, making Cole giggle. "I'm very excited to see Cole's presents, but I'm _more _excited to see you."

"Me too! Me too! Mommy tell 'bout the p'rade and the turkeys and _who else is coming!"_

"Why don't you tell me, _cachorro?_" She kissed all over his face, like she just couldn't get enough of our sweet boy, making him wrinkle his nose and squeal.

"T'mrow is Franksgiving. And a p'rade with Shoopy, my Gecko from the c'mmercials, and one Santa who brings presents soon, and we can _go_." He covered his little mouth with both hands to hold in all the exuberance, a trait Santana swore he got from me, and his eyes were wide as saucers. "Then, we cook turkey and one, _two _pies for _everybody _from Hohio."

"Everybody from Ohio?" Santana covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. "Wow, we better move really, really quick! We can't fit everybody from Ohio in here."

"No! No, Mama! Only the 'portant one, two, three, four, _five _people. My Ramaw and my Rampaw and my Lito and my Lita _and _my Aunt Sissy."

"_Oh. _Okay, we don't have to move then. Which is good, because I really, really love my tree fort bed, and I can't wait to sleep in it tonight."

"I's _my_ tree fort bed. You have a big Mamommy bed. And guess what? 'Cuz me and Mommy missed you, so, so, so times one billion and three much, I sleeped in it with her all the times you was gone."

"Thank you, _mijo, _for keeping Mommy company for me. I wish I would have had another little you to keep _me _company in California."

"You cannot have 'nother me, Mama. Only _one _Cole Pears-Lopeas can be in the whole gimumbo world."

"That's right, I forgot. You know who the math geniuses are around here."

"Me and Mommy! But i's okay because _you _get to be on top of taxis!" He announced proudly, still not over seeing Santana's face on the advertisements on top of cabs a few months earlier, the period in our life where we could _only _ride _Mama taxis._

We spent the rest of the evening as a family, me changing into a sweatshirt that matched the two of theirs', the three of us heading over to the Shake Shack, and showing Cole where they blew up the balloons for the parade, sharing adoring looks as he spun around in circles, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. He started to droop as we reached the end of the crowds on Fifth Avenue, and Santana scooped him up in her arms, holding him close again as he fell asleep against her shoulder. My arm slipped around her waist, and she stopped to press a kiss to my temple, just making me smile at how happy we all were that she was back home. When we got back to the apartment, our son didn't even stir was we changed him into his pajamas, and once he was tucked into bed, she and I retreated to our own room, alone together for the first time in nearly six days.

"Hi, B." She smiled, when she came out of the bathroom, pajamas on, face scrubbed clean from the day, and just purely her, the way only I ever got to see her.

"Hey you." I grinned back, standing up and taking both of her hands, feeling her melt into me as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss me, kiss me in that private, passionate way that we'd both been waiting for since I got back to the apartment.

"Now that's the right kind of welcome home."

"You're using my lips to welcome yourself?" I teased her.

"Fine, I _won't _kiss you then." She pulled away, not even able to hide her smirk as she huffed, and I pulled her back into me. "And maybe I won't give you the present I got you either."

"No." I faked a pout, and she just rolled her eyes at me. "I _love _you, and you can use my lips to welcome yourself back any time you want."

"Nope, if you want my lips, you're going to have to kiss them yourself."

Our game may have turned into her ducking out of my arms, and the two of us chasing each other around the bedroom, laughing, covering mouths with hands to quiet shrieks that threatened to wake the neighborhood, me catching her, and her escaping again, until I finally got her pinned to the bed, and suddenly we weren't even playing anymore. I could have kissed her for hours then, like I needed to drink in all I'd missed, and she reciprocated just as hungrily, stealing my breath away in the way she'd probably still be capable of for the rest of our lives. Somehow, in between removing clothes, and attempting to keep our lips permanently fused in the process, she mumbled into my mouth about the present again, and judging by how turned on she was, I knew _exactly _what she'd brought back for me, or really, _us_. Needless to say, it was a very short night of sleep, but really, who needs sleep, when their night is filled with _amazing _sex with their wife, whom they've missed so much?

When the alarm went off early on Thanksgiving morning, signaling it was time to put the turkey in the oven, I kissed her back to sleep, knowing combining our late night with her long day of travel meant that she could use the extra hour more than I could. Slipping on Santana's oversized pajama pants and my discarded t-shirt, I shuffled out to the kitchen, wiggling my hips a little to loosen up my lower half. I'd just about half stuffed the turkey, when I heard tiny footsteps racing down the hallway, and a wild mop of curly hair appear in the doorway.

"Mommy! Why're your hands up a turkey's booty butt? That's 'asgusting!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby boy." I waved with the hand that was grabbing more stuffing, holding in my laughter at his horrified face. "It's actually not his booty at all, it's...um...it's his turkey stuffing hole."

"Do I have a turkey stuffin' hole?" Cole turned himself around, trying to search his entire body for a hole he'd never seen before, making me hide my laugher in my shoulder, and wish I could get to the video camera.

"Of course you do!" His eyes were wide, and I wished I could snatch him up right then, my favorite thing in the world being when he did things that made him look exactly like Santana. "Where do you think all the stuffing is going to go when we have dinner tonight?"

"I don't know where's it, Mommy! Tell me! Tell me!"

"It's your mouth, of course, silly little goose! Your stuffing hole is where you _put _the stuffing when you gobble it all up."

"You tricked me!" His hands flew up to his mouth as he twirled around in circles, and Santana appeared mid-yawn in the kitchen threshold.

"Looks like I'm missing all the fun in here."

"Mama! Guess what? D'you know that you got a stuffin' hole?" He ran up into her arms, and after hugging and kissing him, she brought him over to sit on the counter so she could kiss me good morning.

"I do? Britt, why didn't you tell me that I have one of these?"

"I's your mouth! When you gobble up the stuffin'" Her reiterated proudly, belly laughing at being able to trick Santana, then cupped his hands over one of her ears to whisper in it. "I didn't know't either."

"Well I'm _very _glad we know now. Now let's see how we can help Mommy, or we're all going to be very late for the parade."

There wasn't much else to do, once the bird was stuffed and in the oven, so while Santana went to shower and start doing her hair, I gave Cole his bath, and helped him dress for the morning in his orange corduroy pants and the _awesome _shirt Santana's mom had sent for him, reading _I 3 Pumpkin __π__._ Leaving Cole on his room with the baby gate up and his blocks, I went in the bathroom to shower, peeking into the bedroom to let Santana know to keep an ear out for him. It took the two of us awhile to get ready, but once we were dressed in our wholesome looking jeans and sweaters, and each finished our hair and makeup, it was barely seven-thirty, and we were confident that we'd make it on time for Cole to see his first Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Going into his room, to get him, I grinned, seeing that he'd added on to his outfit, and he spun around, wanting us to see.

"You said you needed to get fancy, Mommy! Why're you not wearin' a dress or a tutu? I weared mine so we could match!" He fluffed out the purple tutu that he'd shimmied into, the one Santana had bought for him a few months ago, when he'd fallen in love with it in the overpriced fancy toy store, and pouted.

"We're a different kind of fancy today, _mijo._" Santana explained, lifting him into his arms, and squeezing him so tight. The people who'd known Santana in high school, and didn't know her after never would have believed how she encouraged Cole expressing himself, but it was the most important thing in the world to her, and to me as well, and I always felt all warm inside when I saw her helping him choose sparkly shoes, or necklaces _just like yours, Mama, _in the store.

"Oh. Well, I can still be this fancy. B'cause i's on already and I can twirl 'round."

"That's fine with us, Coley." I slipped his warm boots on while Santana held him. "But we better hurry, or we're going to miss Charlie Brown kicking the football!"

"Oh no! Hurry! Hurry!"

Deciding to walk along the park for the first half of our journey down to 34th Street. Cole marveled at the people lined up to watch the parade, waving and shouting _hi _and _happy Franksgiving _to them from his position on my shoulders, like he was the king of the city. Those who recognized Santana took pictures, and she smiled and waved for them, even stopping for a few who were particularly kind to her, pulling me close to her and posing for them. Cole was wiggly and beside himself by the time we made it to the bandstand, and the moment I set him on his feet, he ran around in circles, unsure of what to even do with his energetic little body (one of the many moments where Santana would press her lips against my ear and tell me how much our son reminded her of me). With eyes on our boy, we greeted the other VIP guests and their kids, people who's names usually escaped me, since my mind was so busy with numbers, Santana and Cole that I _rarely _saw movies that Santana wasn't in. It was the inflatable stars approaching us that sent our son shrieking, and wanting to calm his excitement, so he didn't get himself dizzy from the spinning, like he sometimes did, Santana guided him to our seats and pulled him up onto her lap, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on my shoulder.

"This is my favorite Thanksgiving ever." I murmured into her ear, over the sound of Cole shouting about the cast of the new _Mary Poppins _movie singing _A Spoonful Of Sugar._

"It's only just starting." She whispered back, pulling the flaps of Cole's hat down to cover his ears, lighting up as he sang _in the most bee-lightful way! _"But I agree."

Of course, as we'd learned in the early years of Santana's fame, enjoying the perks of it, like those primo seats to the biggest holiday event of the year, didn't come without cost. Unfortunately for us, that cost usually involved talking to the media, the media who'd loved to hound her for years. After the completely invasive way they'd handled the aftermath of her first pregnancy, splashing her miscarriage and the trouble we'd had in our marriage across the front of magazines, as if they were talking about the weather, we, Santana in particular, were wary of letting them close to our family, especially outside of an environment controlled by her dragon of a publicist. She did know it would come though, it always did, and while Cole and I were on our feet, dancing to _Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, _that played from one of the floats, as she clapped along in her seat, a guy in skinny jeans and a form fitting turtleneck sidled up to her, and I caught her eye just as she rolled her own.

"Santana, Happy Thanksgiving! How are you today?" Turtleneck guy asked, a guy with a handheld camera close behind him.

"Morning, happy Thanksgiving." She gave her biggest television smile, keeping one eye on Cole, who held onto my hand and spun in circles.

"Ryland Knight, from _Access Hollywood." _He extended his gloved hand to her, and she shook it. "I interviewed you last year on the red carpet at the-"

"SAG Awards, of course."

"Right. Awesome, I wasn't sure if you'd remember me. We're airing a segment tonight on celebrities and how they're spending Thanksgiving this year, and, well, here you are."

"Here we are. I just got back from LA yesterday afternoon, and Brittany and I thought that our son would really enjoy this." Santana _rarely _used Cole's name in interviews, she wasn't comfortable with it, and I agreed with her, one hundred percent.

"Well it looks like you were right about that. He's been having a blast." Cole chose that exact moment to launch himself into my arms, and I spun around with him, laughing, as Santana's face glowed watching. "You all have been."

"He'll only be this little once, we plan on enjoying every moment of it."

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at the nutcratchers! Look at them dancin'!"

"I see, baby boy. Dance with me, let's practice our pirouettes." I set him down, and he quickly got into his best formation, always amusing me that he loved to dance, despite the fact that neither Santana, nor I, did it regularly anymore. "Great job, Coley."

"He likes to dance, huh?" I heard Ryland ask, and saw Santana snap her attention back to him.

"Loves it. Brittany's an amazing dancer, so it's great to watch them together."

"They do make a nice little pair. Nicolas is really dressed the part too, huh?"

"He is." Santana tread carefully, not sure where he's going with it. It's not like we didn't know that people like to talk about the fact that Cole liked to freely express himself, and that we encouraged that, it was the same things people said about Kingston Rosdale and Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, long before our son was born. "I wish they made one like that in my size. I'm pretty sure I'm still young enough to rock that with some leggings."

"I'd have to agree with you on that one, Santana. It's hard to believe you actually gave birth to a kid with that body." He complimented, but Santana still squirmed a little in her seat, obviously wanting to turn the conversation from her past pregnancy and our son. "How do you feel when you come under fire for dressing him like that."

"I think _come under fire _is a strong statement, don't you?" Santana kept her voice even, but I heard the creeping anger beneath her words.

"Well, you know what I mean."

"I do, unfortunately _know what you mean, _even though you're the only person who's actually been gutsy enough to address it to my face, rather than gossip about my family behind glossy magazine covers. This is the exact reason why I try to keep the press _away _from my son, and why I almost didn't return to the industry after he was born. Look, you seem like you're a decent reporter, Ryland, so I'm going to say this to you, in response to all the ridiculousness that Britt and I have to hear about." She looked over to me, and I nodded, hoisting Cole up on my shoulders and making sure he was sufficiently distracted.

"Look, Sprinkles, there's Arthur!" I pointed, and he clapped ecstatically.

"Arthur! Hi Arthur! You're gimumbo!"

"Okay, so report this as you will, because I'm sure no matter _what _I say, it's the wrong thing, and someone will twist it somehow to say that we're taking our three year old to Vegas and putting him in a drag show. I've heard people think my son wears tutus and sparkly shoes because we're trying to make a statement. Guess what? He picks them out himself, and no, as a mother, I'm not going to tell him that he can't, just because someone arbitrarily decided that sparkles were for girls. Children are naturally _drawn _to shiny and sparkly things, so why _wouldn't _he want to wear them? I've heard people are making assumptions already about his sexuality. He is _three, _why is this even a discussion? I didn't hear anyone saying they thought he was actually a _tiger _when he wore his a Halloween costume for two weeks straight." I heard Santana suck in a deep breath, all her pent up frustration slowly seeping out in her words. "Also, what he chooses to wear doesn't determine his sexuality or gender he is not for anyone to define and disclose but _him_, and really, when it comes to a _baby, _that should be the last thing anyone concerns themselves with. I never want my kid to go through what I went through, self-loathing, public outing, fear. No matter who he is, or who he loves, I love him, my wife loves him, and we'll protect his privacy at all costs. I've had enough of these ridiculous gossip stories."

"Mama! You're missin' it! I's Thomas Come here t' see!"

"I see, _mijo!" _She grinned at him when get turned around, and nodded to Ryland Knight. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch the parade. But to finish your original question, our families are coming in from Ohio, and we're spending a nice quiet afternoon at home. Because that's what I'm thankful for this year, and every year. Brittany, our son, and our families."

"Mama! Mama! Mama!"

"I'm coming, love." Santana stood, and wished a _happy Thanksgiving _to Ryland and his family, before hurrying over to our side and reaching up to grasp Cole's hand.

"I's the best p'rade _ever!__" _He cheered, pumping his free hand in the air. "C'n we come again t'morrow?"

"This one is only one day a year, but if you like it, we will _definitely _come back next year." She promised him, and he wiggled on my shoulders.

"Yes, yes, yes! I love it! I want to come back for one billion and three times! Look! Now it's a top hat bigger than the whole wide world!"

"Are you okay?" I whispered in her ear, tickling my fingers over her lower back when she moved closer to me.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, let's _not _turn on the TV tonight, because I don't want to know what they say about me, but whatever, I'm glad I said my piece, because _I _think Cole looks great, and the rest of the world can shut up."

"I love you." I told her, bringing her free hand up to my lips to kiss the inside of her palm. "And I agree. We're happy, he's the happiest little boy I've ever seen in my life. And I'm thankful for that."

"So am I, Britt. God, I don't know why people don't get that it's the most important thing to want for your kid. But after everything…I can't even make myself want anything else for him."

"Mama! Mama! Mommy! Stop whisp'rin'! Look it! There he is! There's Shoopy! Shoopy! Shoopy! Come here Shoopy! I've been waiting for you for a whole p'rade! Hurry up! Mommy! He's your favorite! Do you see him?"

"I do, I do see him! Hi, Snoopy!" I called out, laughing with tears in my eyes at his untainted joy. "C'mon, Mama, say _hi _to Snoopy!"

"Hi, Snoopy!" Santana cried, waving an arm up in the air, looking up between Snoopy and Cole's face, positively lit up at the level of happiness our boy had reached. "Happy Thanksgiving, Snoopy!"

"Happy Franksgiving Shoopy!" Cole echoed. "Mama! Mommy! Look! He's waving! He's saying happy Franksgiving to us too!"


End file.
